


Life Takes You Strange Places Sometimes

by thewiggins



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Demon OCs - Freeform, Eventual Romance, F/F, Female Character of Color, Femslash, First Meetings, London, Minor Character(s), My First AO3 Post, POV Character of Color
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-18 04:41:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11283930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewiggins/pseuds/thewiggins
Summary: A while after the events of "Hush" Olivia is back in London, trying to make sense of the demon world. Her journey will take her to a refuge for female demons in an abandoned Tube station and it's mysterious proprietor, Jhiera.





	Life Takes You Strange Places Sometimes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [punch_kicker15](https://archiveofourown.org/users/punch_kicker15/gifts).



> Written for the Ladies of Color round of femslash_minis. Punchkicker_15 requested the pairing + _England_ , _ice_ , _focused_ and requested that I avoid including either antagonists from Jheira's world or Giles.
> 
> I did my best. 
> 
> In case you haven't seen "She", the AtS episode that featured Jheira, lately, a quick explanation might be in order. The ridges along Jhiera's back are the seat of her powers, sexuality, and personality. The males of her dimension have a practice of removing them from females in order to make them pliant and suggestible. Yeah, that episode is weird.
> 
> On an unrelated note, this is my first story posted to AO3! Yay! 
> 
> Unbeta'd. Constructive feedback always welcome.

Oliv ia stood at an open doorway, a steep, dimly lit stairway descending into darkness in front of her. When Rupert had asked if knowing that demons and magic were real was too scary, Olivia had responded that she didn't know. And even now she still didn’t. This was one of those times when she wondered if she was crazy, if she shouldn’t just shove all her drawings and notes into a box and bury that box so deep in her closet that she wouldn’t see it for years. Try to go back to her old life to whatever extent that was still possible. She closed her eyes for a moment and let the tunnel breath it’s musty, damp air onto her. She reminded herself of every step she’d taken on this journey and why. She remembered the nightmares, the restlessness and fear that had plagued her before she’d started and she knew that the only way out was forward. And right now the way forward happened to be down and to a mysterious figure known as Jhiera. So, Olivia took a deep breath and stepped through the doorway. 

The tunnel was lit by dim incandescent bulbs, and it wasn’t till she was over halfway down that she could even make out the little door at the end. This door, much like the door above, was a serviceable affair in gray painted metal. Olivia didn’t let herself hesitate at this one. She grabbed the cool metal handle and gave it a firm, decisive twist. 

She was stepping into what must once have been a Tube station. She could see the arched ceiling stretching above, lit by dim and flickering light. But she was surprised that she couldn’t see far into the station itself because a sort of false wall seemed to have been created using blankets and sheets and other large pieces of cloth, stretched tightly between wooden posts in a way that vaguely resembled Japanese screens. A slim, pale young woman stood, apparently waiting for her. At first glance she appeared human. It was only as Olivia stepped closer that she noticed the purple eyes and ridges that ran along the lines of her cheekbones. 

"You must be Olive-ya?" She had a strong, yet unidentifiable accent and seemed to struggle over the sounds of Olivia’s name. 

"Yeah.” Olivia gave the woman what was probably a somewhat nervous smile. “Um, the door wasn’t locked, so I hope it was alright that I just let myself in?” It was half a joke. Knocking on that gray metal door would have felt odd. But Olivia realized she had no idea what sorts of rules of politeness her hosts might follow. 

"Y-yes. That is acceptable." The purple eyed woman responded nervously. She seemed to be trying to hide behind her long auburn hair. "Please, follow me.” 

Olivia was led through a doorway in the screens, down a sort of makeshift hallway, and past other screened off rooms. Her guide stopped at a relatively large chamber, furnished with a collection of chairs and couches that appeared to have been collected at curbsides and thrift stores across town. Despite the somewhat worn look of everything, the chamber was actually fairly well furnished with several lamps, a big oriental rug, and even a little television. Olivia briefly wondered what good a TV was down here. No antennae would be able to pick up a signal down here and cable was another impossibility. But a bulky VHS player and an extensive collection of battered tapes seemed to be the answer. Right now a scene from what appeared to be _Jerry Maguire_ was playing out on the little screen. 

. 

A small handful of demons were sitting across from the TV. One was small and willowy and looked like a collection of branches and leaves that had somehow decided to press themselves into a humanoid shape; one was almost twice the height of an average woman and built like a brick pizza oven; and a third was roughly human in size and shape but sported gray skin and an impressive array of facial folds and ridges. The three looked at Olivia with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. 

"Hello all.” Olivia said, giving them a little wave. 

The purple eyed demon that she'd come with cast a nervous glance around the room and then spoke. 

"Stay for just a moment. I will fetch Jhiera." She glanced around the room again. Speaking to the demons she said "Trela, Kanni'th'k, Cindy, this is Olive-ya. She is our guest." 

The demons looked rather dubiously at her. 

"What is she?" Rumbled the big one. "Looks human." 

The little plant-like one took a disturbingly long sniff of air. When she spoke her voice was high and sharp. "Smells human too!” 

"She is a guest. Jhiera’s guest. Be good." 

Tension deflated slightly at these words. Jhiera was clearly a figure of respect to these demons. It seemed unlikely that they’d hurt her without Jhiera’s permission. Hopefully that was a kind of permission that Jhiera wouldn’t be inclined to give. Olivia sat down in one of the chairs as her guide left the room. 

Now the gray-skinned demon turned to Olivia. 

“How did you learn of this place human?” Her tone was guarded, but not overtly suspicious or hostile. 

“Chyssik. You know her?” 

The demon nodded. “She comes here sometimes. But would she tell you? And why would you care?” 

“Uh that’s a long story.” Olivia paused for a moment, pondering where to even begin, but was saved the effort as the a curtain swished open and a lean figure strode into the room, followed by her initial guide. This new figure had the same facial ridges and piercing purple eyes of the first demon but, while the first demon had seemed reluctant to meet Olivia’s eye, Jhiera immediately locked eyes with Olivia and held her gaze steadily. The unnerving thing about those eyes, Olivia realized, was that solid and unvaried shade of violet. Those eyes seemed to leave no room for indecision or half measures. 

"So you are the one Chyssik told me about." 

"Only good things I hope." 

Jhiera didn’t deign to answer that question, looking at her for another long moment before speaking crisply and decisively. 

"Follow. We will talk in my quarters." And with that she swept back out the room, all smooth determined motion and long billowing coat, never looking back to see if Olivia was following. 

Beyond the curtain was another artificial hallway between the screens. Olivia noticed that the floor here had been constructed from a half-hazard assortment of boards from what looked like a wide variety of provenances. Some had rust-stained old nail holes in them, causing Olivia to guess that they had been salvaged from demolished and crumbling old buildings. Olivia tapped curiously on the floor with a toe. The tap echoed hollowly. She must be standing on a platform built, presumably, by the demons themselves to connect the two sides of the disused station. Meaning that she was above the rails right now. As a child, she’d always been frightened of falling onto the rails and getting electrified or run over. She wondered idly if they were still live, before pushing the thought from her mind. 

Jhiera walked through another curtained doorway and Olivia followed into what was clearly Jhiera’s bedroom. Like the previous chamber, this one was furnished with an eclectic collection of used items. But here they were so carefully chosen and arranged that the room managed to feel lush, even regal. Jhiera threw off her long coat, revealing a sleek little black halter-top. She settled gracefully into a slightly battered regency-style settee, her long leather clad legs draping off the end, a picture of composed relaxation. Olivia sat rather self consciously in the chair opposite and wished she could pull off that kind of casual elegance. Or at the least that she’d thought to wear something a little more impressive than her plain brown sweater and jeans. 

"So what do you have to speak to me about?" Jhiera asked. "You are a human who knows about demons. This isn't so rare. Few seek us out, but of those who do -- well, some seek to profit from us in some way, others seek _exotic_ entertainment, while still others seek to fight or destroy us. What about you? What are you looking for?” 

“Well, not any of those things. Though, I suppose I can’t say I don’t have any selfish motivations.” 

“Oh?” Jhiera raised one shapely eyebrow. 

“It’s not that I’m trying to take advantage. I really just want to understand and be able to relay something about this world. And I wanted to meet you and some of the others that live here. Chyssik told me about how you’ve taken in her and other female demons. She said you’d created this, sort of, refuge. She spoke very highly of you.” 

“And Chyssik told me that wanted to draw us. So you are an artist?” 

Olivia nodded. 

“I must admit, I am fascinated by the concept. We didn’t have much art on Oden Tal. Only men were such pursuits, but the men of my culture are taught not to indulge any interests that might appear weak or sentimental. I did visit a museum in Los Angeles a couple of times. I didn’t get much chance to admire the art; I had more pressing concerns. But I found what I did see...” She paused, taking care to select the right word. “...entrancing. Such unbidden passion, such variety in forms of expression. Tell me, what do you create?” 

“Well, paintings and drawings mostly. I used to do portraits of rich people. There was good money in it. Not a lot of passion though. Or soul. Catering to the vanity of people who are already celebrated more than they deserve... I got my start by drawing people I actually found interesting, people who deserved to be celebrated a bit more than they were. Neighbors, shopkeepers, street kids, my Nan... There was more soul to that, but not nearly as much money. I kind of found myself doing those ones less and less.” 

Olivia raked her fingers through the strip of buzzed hair above her ear her slim dreads. “But then...” 

Jhiera’s sharp eyes were examining her face closely. 

“You saw something.” 

Olivia nodded reluctantly. She hadn’t told anyone that she’d met so far on this little journey of discovery about the Gentlemen. She’d held on to the memory like an especially dark nightmare, too twisted, too _personal_ to share. So she was rather surprised when she found herself talking. 

“I did. I was in California, visiting this old friend of my brother’s that I’d recently gotten back in touch with. He actually knew all about demons and stuff. He’d even told me some, both recently and back when I used to hang around him and big brother.” A little smile quirked her lips at the memory. “I thought he was just the coolest back then. I was willing to go along with anything he said, though I didn’t really believe a word of it. 

But, yeah, there I am, visiting an old friend, relaxed and enjoying myself alright. And then I wake up one morning and my voice is gone.” Olivia felt her hand moving to her throat, massaging it’s structures of muscle and cartilage. “Stolen. _They_ stole it to make us easier to kill. They did it to the whole town. And that night I get up, uh, just get up to get a drink or something. And I see him. Just on the other side of the glass. Smiling. I couldn’t even scream. He might have cut out my heart, just like the others, and I couldn’t even have made a sound.” 

Olivia dug her fingernails into her jeans, bunching up the tough fabric. She would absolutely not cry. She refused to, not here, not in an underground demon sanctuary, and not in front of this mysterious and unearthly woman. 

Jhiera was nodding her head, thoughtful. She swung her legs out and lifted herself into a sitting position. “I know what it is to be silenced. The men of Oden Tal expected silence and unquestioning obedience from me, though I was the daughter of their king. And they might have cut my heart out too, if I hadn’t escaped.” For a moment Jhiera was only nominally in the same room with her, but then she snapped back, her eyes locked back onto Olivia’s and she spoke. 

“Your experience changed you.” It wasn’t a question. 

“Yes. Those things that called themselves _gentlemen_ , they sort of crawled into my brain and took over. I tried to work, but they crept into my portraits; I’d see this smug smile on my sitter’s face and all I’d think of was of the smile I saw through the window that night. 

Which brings me to the part that’s relevant to you, I guess. I eventually realized that if demons and magic and whatnot are real, they’re real. I can’t pretend that nothing happened or that life was like how I’d thought it was before. But from the things that friend of mine had told me, not all demons were scary and bad. And I was starting to feel that, as scary as knowing is, not knowing can be even scarier. And knowing only the worst parts of something? Scariest of all. 

So, I looked up this bloke, Benny, another old friend of my brother’s. He’s a musician and minor warlock. Found him on MySpace. And he was able to put me in touch with some friends, some other warlocks and a few demons. 

I started meeting up with them in cafes and bars, just talking to them about their lives and drawing pictures of them if they’d let me. Really, I just expected to do it once or twice, learn a little more and maybe get over my fear a bit. But, well I’ll show you.” 

Olivia pulled her sketchbook out of her satchel and held it for Jhiera to see. Jhiera nodded, gesturing for Olivia to join her on the settee. Olivia lowered herself onto the small couch, feeling very aware of the fact that this sharp, unfairly beautiful creature was sitting just inches away. She handed Jhiera the sketchbook, open to the first page. 

“That’s Rich,” Olivia offered helpfully. “He’s a Bracken. First friend of Benny’s I met.” 

Jhiera appeared to be examining the image very carefully. She was completely silent and intent, her long fingers tracing the spiny profile. Olivia leaned traced the lines of the picture with her eyes, thinking back to that night in a smokey pup filled with demons and humans. She remembered how frightened and excited she’d been and how embarrassed she’d been at these emotions. Rich had been generous with his time and understanding. In retrospect, Olivia felt guilty about how initially uncomfortable she’d felt to be sitting next to a red-eyed demon. 

“It’s good.” 

“I’m sorry?” 

“Your drawing. Of Rich? I’m not an expert in art, but I think it is good. I see...” She stared at the page. “Sadness, I think. And fear. But pride also.” 

“Yeah, Rich, he’s very conflicted. On the one hand he’s proud of his heritage but, on the other hand, it comes with a lot of challenges.” 

Jhiera nodded thoughtfully. 

The next several minutes were spent by Jhiera flipping through the notebook and Olivia offering some minimal commentary on each page. 

“Oh!” Jhiera said, as she turned a page. “It’s Chyssik.” 

“Mmm... That one was from the first day I met her, at Alexia’s...” 

Alexia’s had been one of her favorite finds since delving into the demon world. The tiny cafe had no storefront, only a nondescript door in an ally that lead to a steep set of carpeted steps. If you happened to pass the place, you might naturally assume the door lead to some apartments or private offices. But if you climbed the steps, you’d find an airy little space, painted in blues and whites and full of lush hanging plants. There Olivia would sit for hours, drinking cup after cup of strong Greek coffee and nibbling on flaky baklava and those little almond cookies dusted liberally with powdered sugar, while sketching and writing in her notebook. 

The cafe seemed to be a preferred hang out for many of London’s more benign demon varieties. Alexia herself was a Fryth’Gyr demon whose strong Greek accent and matronly personality clashed somewhat with her red skin and impressive array of forehead spikes. Not to mention the mouth full of needle-sharp teeth. Alexia had initially been somewhat wary of Olivia’s presence, but had quickly taken her under her wing and made sure she was introduced to all her regular customers. 

Olivia found herself explaining to Jhiera how Alexia had introduced her to Chyssik, a wispy little demon with mottled, lima bean-colored skin. Chyssik would sit by the cafe window for hours, staring at the bustling pedestrians with the unmasked longing of someone who could never openly walk down a day-lit street. 

“And I kind of get it, you know?” Olivia found herself explaining. “I can walk down the street of course. But people do stare at me sometimes, or sort of veer over to the other side of the pavement. Or mutter things just loud enough for me to hear and know they’re talking about me.” 

Jhiera nodded seriously. “Yes. I myself may walk the streets openly. But only by strategically hiding certain parts of myself.” She twisted in place, arching her back away from Olivia and allowing her to see what the coat had hidden earlier. A line of rectangular ridges started at the base of her skull and grew larger as they marched down the line of her spine, ending between her shoulder blades. 

Jhiera returned to the notebook, carefully examined each image she flipped through, occasionally stopping her to ask questions about the subjects of her drawings. 

Leaning close to Jhiera as she explained the images, Olivia felt a strange warmth was radiating off the other woman, carrying the smell some kind of essential oil blend. Bergamot? Cloves? 

Worse her eyes kept snapping over to Jhiera’s face. She could lie to herself and say she was merely interested in a artist. In pondering the line of the black tattoo that cut across her eye and jaggedly back up her temple. In closely observing the delicate, angular geometry of her face, solely with an eye for how to put it on a page. But Olivia preferred not to lie to herself. She knew quite well why she was looking. 

And then Jhiera looked up at just the wrong moment and caught Olivia in the act of blatantly staring. For a moment something in those smooth purple eyes flickered. Jhiera rose and strode purposely across the room. Was she leaving? Olivia wondered if she should say something. Had she offended her? 

Jhiera didn’t speak but held out her hand, finger extended in the gesture of “just give me a minute.” Olivia noticed in surprise that the ridges on Jhiera’s back were glowing orange. Jhiera opened a smile blue and white cooler and pulled out a handful of ice, those little flat ovals that ice machines spit out. Did they have an ice machine down here? Jhiera plucked an ice cube off the handful and ran it gently and, Olivia had to notice, somewhat sensually across her forehead, her cheeks, the line of her nose. The rest of the handful was was less ceremonially rubbed across Jhiera’s chest and shoulders, cubes slipping out her her hand and raining onto the rug. Jhiera too a long calming breath. The spines had dimmed, but not gone out. 

And then she strode back and sat calmly beside Olivia, who might have been tempted to think she’d imagined the whole thing if the carpet hadn’t been littered with melting ice cubes. 

“I’ve decided.” 

“I’m sorry, what?” 

“I’ve decided. What you came for? I grant your request. You are welcome to visit here as often as you like. As long as you are respectful.” 

“Oh! Right! Thank you.” 

  
“As for the drawings, I cannot give permission for anyone but myself. You will have to ask the girls individually.” 

“Of course.” 

“But, if you like... You can start with me.” 

Jhiera leaned back in the couch and for the first time, Olivia sees her smiling. It’s a small, sly smile and Olivia finds herself smiling back. 

“Yeah, I think I’d like that.” 


End file.
